


Perspectives

by Sealie



Series: 'Uhane [14]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, M/M, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 15:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13102788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sealie/pseuds/Sealie
Summary: Steve and Danny aren't celebrities but they’re very much in the public and their ‘Ohana’s eye.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: gennish  
> Warning: bigotted POV in one 'chapterette'  
> Spoilers: none  
> Disclaimer: writing for fun and not for profit  
> Beta: Springwoof gave it a looksee, because she is awesome that way. Thank you. 
> 
> Comments:  
> 1) British English spelling  
> 2) Sentinel AU fusion in the ‘Uhane universe  
> 3) OC POVs'

**Perspectives  
by sealie**

“Once upon a time--”

“A long, long time ago,” a high voice piped. 

Sophia Donavan smiled as she dropped her double bagged garbage in the trash. Double-bagged because the weekend’s trash included the remains of a family favourite, garlic bulb-roasted chicken, and they lived next door to a sentinel. She doubted that Danny would be bothered, but maybe if he was tired after a long day protecting the People of the Hawai’i, the smell might be a little too strong. 

“There was a little Sentinel called--” 

“GEORGE!” the toddler’s voice came clearly through the bushes. 

“Yes, you are, but this story is about a Little Sentinel called Vera,” Steve said. “V-E-R-A.”

“No! George! George is a sentinel.” 

“Well, if you’re going to talk about yourself in first person. But this is a story about a little girl called Vera. She lived in Romania.” 

“Why?” 

“Why? Why-what?” Steve sounded perplexed. “Romania is a country. That is where she was born. You were born in Hawai’i.” 

“Oh. Read!” George said imperiously. 

“Magic word?” 

“Please.” 

“Okay. Once upon a time--”

Sophia bit her lip, charmed. She gently closed the lid on the garbage can so she wouldn’t disturb them and headed back into her house.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Kila was honoured to be considered one of the Sentinel and Guide of Hawai’i’s ‘Ohana. It didn’t mean that he didn’t know that they were a pair of argumentative idiots. They argued for fun. They also loved each other unreservedly. 

Their adoption of Nahele Huikala came as something as a surprise, but after thinking about it for a moment, it wasn’t -- because Steve and Danny were twin forces of chaos. True -- the adoption wasn’t official by any sense of the word, but Nahele was going to be taken from them over Lieutenant Commander McGarrett’s cold dead body, assuming that they made it through Detective Danny Williams. 

And actually, Kila would castrate anyone that attempted to deprive Nahele of his guardians. 

Huh. 

Kila finished shaving and contemplated his reflection. He was part of something special. The people of Hawai’i had lost a lot of their traditional teachings through indoctrination and outright cultural suppression. Nahele Huikala represented a bright future. But Kila was aware that it was a lot of pressure to set on a young teenager’s shoulders. 

Today, he was introducing Nahele to the Kakawelewele. Steve would also come. Danny had made his apologies. citing that he wasn’t going to deal with any mumbo jumbo. The sensitive would be offended by the dismissal. Kila knew that the sentinel’s feelings were more multifaceted. He had yet to truly understand Danny Williams, apart from knowing that, at his core, he was a good man, and fundamentally a father. A protector. Simply, Williams had little time for that which he couldn’t sift with his senses or didn’t want to sift with his senses.

Steve McGarrett was infinitely more complicated and really much more simple. 

It was somewhat galling that decades of training meant that he wasn’t even close to experiencing what a guide could perceive simply by looking. 

Kila patted aftershave on his jaw. 

Time to get dressed. 

The doorbell rang. 

“It’s open!” Kila hollered. 

“Morning!” Steve hollered back. 

“I’ll be down in a minute. There’s coffee.” Kila knew that his own timekeeping skills were marginal at best. Steve, brainwashed by the military, was habitually ten minutes early. Kila figured that today Steve was probably twenty minutes early because he had really tried to factor those ten minutes into his morning preparations. 

He quickly donned his malo. His kapa robes were carefully rolled up and packed so he could wear them at the meeting and Nahele’s official greeting. He paused a moment, contemplating, and then placed his kukui nut lei around his neck. 

He toed on his slippahs and padded downstairs and into the kitchen. 

“Aloha.” Steve leaned against the kitchen counter in one long line, nose in a coffee cup. 

At the table, Nahele jumped to his feet. “Sir,” he said, seeing Kila. 

Nahele stared at Kila, nervously tugging at the cuff of his clearly brand new jacket. Nahele and Steve were both dressed in the European fashion. Steve wore a classic 60’s black, cool-line suit and matching narrow tie over a pristine white shirt. Nahele’s style was slightly more relaxed, with room to grow.

Stylish, respectful, albeit slightly gauche for the meeting. However, it wasn’t as if Steve could head out to a local haberdashery and purchase a malo and a kīhei for Nahele. The whole point of this meeting was to start Nahele’s introduction to his heritage. 

Steve had even shaved, so closely there wasn’t a hint of stubble. 

Kila was kind of surprised that he hadn’t worn his uniform. But this was Nahele’s meeting, Steve was present as his guardian. 

Steve cocked an eyebrow. 

“Thinking,” Kila explained. 

“Yeah? What about?” 

“Balance,” Kila said. Balancing several worlds. Wondering, not for the first time, how could he help train a guide with a foot in a different world that he could only peek at through an opaque window? 

Steve and Danny had come to him for help. Helping and healing was his chosen role in life. Steve had not wanted to be a guide, but now was more comfortable with learning. He was becoming skilled, partly, because now he worked to guide his sentinel, but also figure out how to train his ward. 

“Your role,” Steve said obliquely, “is to open Nahele’s eyes to the world.” 

“Which one?” Kila asked. 

Nahele shot a concerned glance at them both, one after another. 

“All of them.” Steve grinned. 

Steve, Kila noted, was becoming more guide-like every day.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Beeley’s favourite customers sauntered into his shop. Danny was leading, with the strut that caught all the ladies and guys’ attentions – those that liked a good strut.

“Hey, Beeley,” Danny greeted with his effusive bonhomie. “What’s good?” 

“Everything.” 

Steve mooched along in his wake, walking with that hip-shot gait that promised sore hips and arthritis when he reached his sixties. Beeley had spent years practicing as a chiropractor before realising that nutritional science was where he wanted to be. Food was medicine. Good food was art. And there was no reason why both couldn’t exist together. 

“I have a new smoothie for you to try,” Beeley announced. 

“Okay,” Steve said, of course, knowing that Beeley was talking to him. Danny wasn’t fond of smoothies. He whined at Beeley about the texture, especially if they included chia seeds. 

Beeley contemplated his ingredients, tossing or drizzling one after another into his blender. Turmeric, definitely – good for inflammation. Pineapple, the bromelain was both an anti-inflammatory and analgesic. Coconut oil to facilitate the absorption of the turmeric – just a touch or Steve would whine. Beeley contemplated his patient. Steve raised an eyebrow. Black Pepper? No. He needed to add some Vitamin C. Yes, berries. A handful of blackberries, cranberries, and blueberries. 

Beeley gathered his ingredients as Danny wandered over to the cooler to select their lunches. 

“Steve?” Danny called. “You want a spinach and hummus wrap?”

As Steve turned to his sentinel, Beeley snuck a piece of celery in the blender. Steve’s attention was on Beeley in a heartbeat. 

“I don’t like celery.” This was their game. Beeley rarely got anything past the pair. 

“It’s a tiny, tiny, bit. Flavour compounds.” 

Steve grumbled, but let Beeley concoct. 

“Blending,” Beeley said. 

Danny raised his hand in acknowledgment. Beeley hit the button, and the high pitched whine blasted as the ingredients were pulverised. 

“Bit thick,” Steve judged, hanging over the low counter. “Cherry juice?” 

Oh, yes, Steve knew his nutrition. Beeley sloshed in a good dose of tart cherry juice. “Blending,” he advised, and smushed the ingredients. 

“Looks good,” Steve said, straightening. Mission accomplished. 

“Smells okay.” Danny came back to the counter with an armful of wraps; feeding his co-workers. He set a twenty dollar bill, covering the price of the wraps and a good tip, on the counter. 

Beeley decanted the smoothie into a glass jar, and handed it up to Steve, towering over him.

“Bottoms up,” Steve said with a mock-English accent. 

“Good health.” 

Steve glugged down the smoothie. Philistine. He never savoured the contents, focused on getting to the bottom as quickly as possible. Head tipped back, he finished off the smoothie, and smacked his lips. 

“Good,” he pronounced. 

Danny snagged the glass off Steve, and stuck his little finger in. He licked the gloop with the tip of his tongue. 

“Needs carrot and a touch of black pepper,” he judged. “Otherwise, okay.” 

“I’ll add it to the recipe board.”

“I don’t like pepper,” Steve pointed out. 

“I’ll make yours without,” Beeley promised. The celery was staying in the mix. 

“Thanks, Beeley.” Danny set the jar down on the counter, picked up his wraps, and with his free hand pushed Steve towards the door. “Always a pleasure.” 

“Honoured,” Beeley said, as his favourite customers left.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

Freaky sentinel. Creepy guides. They should be locked up. La Forge ducked his head, looking anywhere than at the pair. Proper guides were meek and servile, standing obediently at their sentinels’ sides. 

This one didn’t. He paced. He was tall. He was arrogant. He spoke out of turn. He had pointless opinions. 

He was taking over. It shouldn’t be allowed. 

La Forge looked up from his nasty cup of precinct coffee and glared at the stupid, fucking guide, who was staring right back at him. Arrogant, stupid cocksucker, he didn’t know his place. 

The thing leaned back against the wall, and crossed his arms. Guide were sensitive fuckers, even if they were pretending to be real men. He probably had never been in the Pan Navy, guides were liars. It was in their nature. Their sentinels coddled them. If they were little and soft that made sense, but this one was a freak of nature even if he was pretty. 

“ _Jesus_ ,” the guide said. 

He was taking the Lord’s name in vain. 

The guide pushed off the wall. 

“He’s a threat to the operation. He can’t work with me because I’m a guide. I’m mission critical. He leaves or the operation goes down the can.”

The soddin’ guide was _pointing_ at him! He read his mind! 

“You’re the most _uncomplicated_ bigot I’ve ever met in my life,” the guide said conversationally. “You just hate.”

“You’re an--”

Pinstripes filled his vison. La Forge looked up at the tiny little Sentinel puffing out his chest. La Forge stood, expecting his height to intimidate the Sentinel. Why was it laughing?

“I didn’t think that people like you actually existed,” the sentinel said. “How the fuck do you pass your yearly psych-evals? You do not want to cross me, La Forge.”

“La Forge.” His captain shook his head. “Go back to your desk. The Croupler case isn’t going anywhere.” 

“Captain,” La Forge protested. This wasn’t fair; he had worked hard to get on this taskforce. The captain said it himself: the Croupler case was a dead end -- he was being benched. He hadn’t done anything. That creepy-assed guide read his mind. “I didn’t say anything!” 

“You didn’t have to, La Forge.” Captain Tanaka ran his hand over his jaw. “I saw your face.” 

Swearing under his breath, La Forge left.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

Mom. 

Moku tracked Mom on silent paws. The Contender wasn’t present. The Contender belonged to Sapphire Eyes but Mom was all Moku’s. Greyone belonged to no one and was happy to belong to no one and everyone. 

Mom stopped and regarded him. Mom was part cat. This was good. 

“Hey.” Mom stooped down. Moku ran into his large hand. He was lifted high, fast. Not as fast as a cat, though. 

Mom set him on his shoulder. Moku hooked his claws into Mom’s collar. 

“I’m thinking Opakapaka for dinner with a plum sauce?”

Moku meowed. Mom was kind of deaf and needed a lot of encouragement. But that was fine, Moku was Cat and understood lesser beings. 

Opakapaka proved to be fish. Moku approved. 

Mom sliced and diced and offered Moku a sliver. 

Good. Mom was a good mom. A good provider. And a good source of comfort and warms. Moku accepted another sliver as was his due as a Cat. 

Mom hummed under his breath as he prepared food for his mate, The Contender. Moku purred and kneaded reassuringly and being reassured. 

“Hey, Babe.” 

The Contender swaggered in, just like a Dog -- too loud, too effusive. Mom and The Contender pressed lips together, but there was no licking. Perhaps later tonight, Moku observed. 

“Fish?” The Contender pouted. 

“Fiiiiissssssh,” Mom intoned, “is good for you.” 

And Cats, Moku thought, delicately accepting another sliver. 

Good Mom.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

Lucy sighed. He was gorgeous and so unobtainable. He was also in excellent shape. He was jogging like he had all the energy in the world. He wasn’t even breathing hard. 

Why? Sweat was dripping down her back. Her new sports bra was crushing her to death and her thighs were squeaking. 

“Hello, Commander McGarrett.” Lucy managed a little wave, even if it threw her off balance. Grace was so lucky to live with Commander McGarrett, even if it was only at weekends. 

“Lucy.” Commander McGarrett sailed past her on the running trail. 

He was perfect. 

Lucy continued doggedly along. When did this become fun? Easy? Something that was enjoyable? When O’ahu was engulfed by boiling hot lava? 

“Hey, Lucy.” Commander McGarrett had reversed and was running at her side. 

Lucy didn’t breathe for five steps and then had to wheeze. 

“Didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“‘mander,” she wheezed. 

“Slow down a fraction.” Commander McGarrett slowed his own pace. 

She didn’t have the breath to disagree. And he was so commanding, she slowed down. 

“You want some advice? Running advice?” he asked. 

She would take any advice that Commander McGarrett gave her. 

“Firstly, you need to slow down.” 

Lucy glanced up at him, confused. Wasn’t the whole point to run? 

He smiled down. “It’s not a race, kiddo. You’re going to exhaust yourself before you get anywhere.” 

“Huh.” 

“Shorten your running stride. Don’t stretch out as much.” 

Lucy tried. Commander McGarrett was almost walking now, not running, at her side. It was kind of embarrassing—here she was dying of exhaustion, and he was _ambling_. 

“Looking good. Humans are endurance predators. When you run or, more accurately, jog right, you can keep this up all day.”

“Endurance predators?” she managed between gasps. 

“It’s an interesting theory called the Endurance Running Hypothesis. Long story short, we evolved – we have biomechanical adaptations related to long distance running. Endurance running means we’re better at scavenging and persistence hunting.” 

“There’s theories about running?” Lucy wheezed. 

“Hypotheses.” Commander McGarrett laughed. He had perfect teeth -- perfect everything. “I’ll email a couple of papers to Gracie and she can ping them on to you.” 

They ran a little further. The warm air was starting to dry the perspiration on her face. 

“So, one, you need to run slower, and, two, you have to modify your foot strikes. The ball of your foot should hit the ground and keep your toes tilted a little downwards.” 

Lucy tried and stumbled. Commander McGarrett caught her elbow. 

“Careful.” 

_OMG – touching_. But it felt just like her granddad. He let go and ran a little forwards. 

“Toes tilted down a little, and then move back to the heel.” He demonstrated. “But your heel doesn’t fully touch the ground. If it does, you’re running too slow. And three, rhythm -- rhythm is important.”

Lucy wasn’t feeling it, but the slower pace was amazing. 

Commander McGarrett had reversed and was jogging backwards, allowing Lucy to catch up. He was so far out of her league he may have well been on the moon. Maybe she could become an astronaut? First person on the moon, sounded pretty cool. 

“There’s a whole lot of science behind running. Foot placement. About how you use your back, hips and legs. Then how you position your head, shoulders and arms. Breathing -- breathing is the most important. But let’s get your feet and pacing sorted out first before going onto the other stuff.” 

It was a lot to take in. 

“It’s okay, we won’t do it all at once.” 

“Lessons?” Lucy said horrified. 

Commander McGarrett laughed again. “Gracie and I run on Sunday mornings. You’re welcome to join us. Check with your mom. Gracie will text you. Remember slower pace, think about your feet, and remember to breathe.”

He bounced on his back heel, and changed direction, running forwards instead of backwards, continuing the way that he had been going originally. He sailed past her at his own pace, which was about a hundred times faster than Lucy’s. 

“See you later, kiddo.” 

“Bye, Commander!” she hollered belatedly. What had she just let herself in for? Sunday mornings – they were for lying in. 

But if she wanted to join the Pan North Navy when she got older, she had to be in shape, and what better way than learning from a Navy SEAL?

She’d better check with Grace first, to make sure that she was okay with her honing in on Grace’s Commander Steve time.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

“Nahele, we’re leaving in forty minutes. You have time for a shower and breakfast. You need to do both,” Steve’s tone was uncompromising. 

Nahele pushed in his face into his pillow. _What?_ Comfort enfolded him. The hustle and bustle of the world was so distant outside the boundary of Steve and Danny’s home. 

“Nahele?” 

“Yes, sir,” Nahele managed. He knew he needed an hour in the morning. He knew that Steve had knocked on his bedroom door twenty minutes ago.

“Seriously, kid. If you don’t have a shower, I’m gonna make Danny follow you into school berating you on your poor life choices and lack of hygiene.” 

“What?” Nahele sat up straight. Steve was grinning so brightly that he was practically a silhouette against Nahele’s senses. “You wouldn’t!”

“Do you want to chance it?” Steve outright cackled as he left the room. Sprinkles of laughter wafted in his wake. 

Nahele staggered blearily through his morning shower. He didn’t _get_ mornings. Steve was horrendous in the morning. Danny was cool, though. It was the only time the man was a relaxed balm. 

Hair a little damp, Nahele picked his way down to the kitchen. 

“Mornin’, Kiddo. Heard you coming down – finally.” Danny was setting a plate of eggs and waffles in Nahele’s place. 

He had a _place_.

There was also hot chocolate, not coffee. Danny had detailed opinions on kids drinking coffee, mainly around the effects of caffeine on bones. Nahele simply drank the hot chocolate and didn’t argue. Danny made good hot chocolate with full-fat milk topped with cream, and Nahele could, if he really wanted, get a Kona coffee at school. He didn’t, because he lived with a sentinel who had a snozzle that could detect molecules of caffeine. Nahele kind of thought that chocolate had caffeine in it? Danny ruffled his hair as he sat. “What?” 

“Thank you,” Nahele said. 

Nahele breathed in Danny's simple pleasure in feeding his family. A bowl of fruit and bottle of maple syrup were pushed in his direction. Worry coloured Danny's aura. While he never broached the topic, he was concerned that Nahele was both a vegetarian and a guide. Meat simply wasn’t something that Nahele could bring himself to eat. Truth to tell, he was a little creeped out that both Danny and Steve revelled in the occasional steak, but he could deal. On one hand, he really didn’t understand how a guide and sentinel could eat the flesh of animals. But he also knew that it wasn’t simply an ethical choice, especially for Steve. 

A Steve without fish and shellfish wasn't possible. Basically, Steve got ill, especially if he didn’t eat oily fish. It was kind of odd, but Nahele could taste it on his own skin when Steve was heading to the bad place. Weirdly, steaks also made Steve _happy_. Honestly, Steve and a steak were a match made in heaven. If his guardian was running a little low, and his demons were hovering around him, sapping his energy, meat buoyed his mood. 

Nahele was fairly sure that Danny didn’t need to eat flesh. But he also knew that some war’s battles had to be carefully planned. Grace would be an ally; she was invested in her Danno’s health.

“What’s worrying you, kid?” Danny asked.

“Nothing.” Nahele shovelled maple syrup drenched waffle into his mouth.

“Hmm.” Danny eyed him over the rim of his gianormous coffee mug. “Well, if you want to talk about it, I'm here.”

Nahele nodded mutely, gagged by the biggest mouthful he could get in his mouth. He was the luckiest guide alive. He had Steve and Danny looking out for him. Months -- actually over two years -- on 'Aina had soured his stomach. Never relaxing, because they had always been under surveillance. Mrs. Malone had been terrifying. Then Danny -- proud and obstinate, and not the slightest bit afraid of Mrs. Malone -- had arrived to investigate Akeakamai Iona’s death, and Nahele’s world had changed.

A sentinel. A sentinel who said that he didn’t want a guide, even as his guide – tall and proud, stood beside him prodding and teasing him to eat. And then a flicker and the guide had disappeared from Nahele’s inner sight, as if never one of the ‘Uhane. No brightness; only a haole. 

He had stared, along with his fellow students, at the pair eating their carefully, nutritionally prepared lunch. 

Then, next thing that he knew was that he was running from the table, stampeding with his friends, impelled somehow to leave.

Nahele had stopped dead outside the dining hall. 

The guide had made him run. He could also compel! 

Nahele wasn’t alone. 

He wasn’t unique. 

Thank _Kane_ and _Kanaloa_. 

“Kiddo, food is better in your mouth,” Danny advised. Making a great show, Danny consulted his watch. “As our militarily-conditioned associate will state, T-minus three. I might have that wrong, though.” 

Nahele shovelled faster. 

“Try not to choke yourself to death,” Danny advised. “Did you do your homework and pack your stuff last night?”

Nahele nodded. He jerked his head into the living room. His backpack was by the front door, ready to be snatched up as he bolted out the door on Steve’s heels. Danny, Nahele knew, was aware of this, because Steve was pretty insistent about ‘proper preparation’ under all circumstances. It was just the way their militarily-conditioned associate rolled. 

Nahele didn’t mind, because otherwise he would be running out the door naked instead of wearing his school uniform. 

Danny grabbed a ceramic bottle of cold water from the fridge, and sauntered into the front room to store it in Nahele’s backpack. 

Nahele glanced at the kitchen clock. Time. He washed down the last mouthful of eggs with a glug of hot chocolate. 

“‘Hele?” Steve called. “Time to get you to school.” 

Nahele quickly dashed water over the plate and rinsed out the mug and set them on the draining board. 

“I’ll see you in the office, Babe,” Danny was saying. 

Standing by the open front door, Steve was leaning over, smacking an affectionate kiss on Danny’s lips. Lifting his chin to meet his guide one-on-one, Danny curled a hand around Steve’s neck, pulling him closer for a more intimate, tender kiss. 

They stood in the doorway, their love a tangible barrier from the great, wild world outside their home. 

Nahele toted his backpack over one shoulder and waited patiently. 

And maybe-definitely enjoyed basking in the warmth of their love.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

**EPILOGUE**

“Weird week.” Steve dangled a bottle of beer by its neck before Danny’s nose. 

“How? It didn’t seem more weird than normal.” Danny accepted the drink. 

Steve dropped on the lanai sofa next to Danny, and slung his legs onto the coffee table next to Danny’s shorter ones. Danny leaned forwards so Steve could curl an arm around his shoulders. He settled back, stretched like a cat, and then shivered, deliciously. 

The waves lapped on the shore before them, reflected setting-sun sparkling mesmerisingly. 

“I dunno. I just felt like everyone was thinking about us all week.” Steve shifted a little so he could nuzzle his cheek against the side of Danny’s head, and breathe him in. 

“About us, or at us?”

“Mostly, folk just being aware of us?” Steve hazarded. 

“I guess we are sort of celebrities.” Danny wriggled and got more comfortable, sinking further into Steve’s angles. He mouthed the top of the bottle, absently. 

Steve snorted – Danny’s had such a mouth fetish. 

Grace’s solar-powered lanai lights twinkled, cycling from a multi-coloured rainbow to simple, soft yellowy-white in the dusk. Steve preferred the starlight effect. He made a mental note, not for the first time, to jimmy the mechanism so it only glowed white. 

“Celebrities, really?” Steve said out loud. 

“Everyone knows us,” Danny huffed. “We’re not stars. We’re not politicians. We’re not like gurus of sentinelism. Our activism is more doing instead of saying. Okay, celebrity isn’t the right word. But I don’t know the right word.”

“You don’t know the right word,” Steve mocked. 

Danny jabbed an elbow in his ribs. Steve wriggled, tickled. 

“Stopit.” 

“We’re a guide and a sentinel, we’re in the public eye.” Danny dug his elbow in once more, but only once. “Everyone has an opinion, accurate and inaccurate about us. But you know what?”

“What?” Steve said obediently. 

“You and me, Babe, and our family--”

“‘Ohana,” Steve inserted. 

“Okay.” Danny rolled his eyes. “‘Ohana against the world – we’ll be fine.”

“You know that’s disturbing and comforting at the same time. And that is so… you and the way you think.”

“Yeah.” Danny shrugged, and wiggled down getting even more comfortable. “Any stand outs?” 

“What do you mean?”

“When people were thinking at us, what were they thinking?” the question was loaded. 

“I wasn’t reading their minds,” Steve protested. 

“Yeah,” Danny said easily. “But what were they thinking?” 

“There was that bigot -- La Forge.”

“I spotted him.” Danny growled. 

Steve stroked his thumb up the side of Danny’s neck. 

“Captain Tanaka had him under control,” Steve said. 

Danny growled again. He had a history with Tanaka. “What’s Beeley up to?” he said, deliberately changing the subject. 

Steve let him. If La Forge tried anything, Steve would sort it out, permanently. They didn’t need to discuss the topic. 

“I think he’s trying to push anti-inflammatory smoothies on me,” Steve said. 

“What? Wait… Why?” 

Steve kept Danny from jumping up by clamping his arm down across Danny’s shoulders. 

“It’s better than fish smoothies,” Steve said, humour threading his tone. He could see Danny making a mental note to talk to Beeley. If it meant that Danny advocated more salads and juices, ostensibly to improve _Steve’s_ diet, Steve wasn’t going to protest. He used many tools in his arsenal to improve Danny’s poor eating habits. 

“Nahele’s getting more comfortable,” Steve offered, thinking on Nahele’s subtle machinations, or not so subtle machinations. 

“Would Nahele benefit from nasty kale smoothies?”

“Probably,” Steve judged, hiding a smile, “some seeds – like flax seeds – provide some of the essential Omega-3 fatty acids found in fish. We could add a family breakfast smoothie to the menu.”

Danny looked at him darkly; he wasn’t anyone’s fool. 

“Or we keep experimenting with food. The farmers’ market will be on tomorrow.” 

Danny heaved out a sigh, already agreeing to get up early and go. “You can get Nahele out of bed,” he offered. 

Thus was the ebb and flow or debate and agreement with trade-offs in an ever increasing family. 

“After the farmer’s market we can swing by and pick up Grace and George for the weekend,” Danny continued. “You’re training with Grace on Sunday morning, eh?”

“Yeah, Lucy’s joining us.” 

“Oh, when did that happen?” 

“I bumped into her jogging earlier in the week.” 

“And you just offered your help?” 

“Yeah, kid was going to hurt herself if she continued racing.” 

“Aw, bless.” Danny pushed against his ribs. 

“You’d do the same thing.” Steve’s kissed Danny’s ear and Danny shivered. 

“Running? Never. I can show her how to knee a guy in the nuts, though.” 

“I’d check with her mom first to make sure that’s okay.” 

Danny hummed under his breath. Steve figured he better mention the prospective Jersey-Arts training to Gracie to pass onto Lucy, so it didn’t come out of left field. He could then offer proper, krav maga training perhaps as a warming exercise prior to running. 

“What?” Danny said suspiciously. 

“What?” Steve said innocently. 

“You could take Nahele running.” 

“Haven’t got a snowballs chance in Hawai’i of getting ‘Hele up that early on a Sunday to go running.” 

“I’ll take Nahele with Kila to go visit the kallywelly welly wellies,” Danny said. “He needs to be there elevenish, yeah?”

“Thought that you didn’t want to engage with the Kakawelewele?”

“I’m not going to marry them.” Danny ran his big toe up Steve’s shin. “You know what I mean. I haven’t caught up with Kila in a while. And it does behove me to check out these Welly wellies, make sure that they are going to treat Nahele right.” The tone of no-argument threaded through Danny’s words. 

Steve took a swig of his beer. The Kakawelewele were a good bunch. Danny would figure that out on his own. He settled down a little further, melding with the cushions and Danny. 

“Incoming,” Danny said the words a warning but the tone amused. 

Moku scurried onto the lanai moving faster than his paws, he stumbled, and straightened and then yowled at Steve, intent and imperious. It was a little like being yelled at by George in a toddler strop. 

“What do you think’s the matter?” Danny asked conversationally. 

“Haven’t got a clue.”

“He make a lot of noise for such an undersized scrap,” Danny said. 

Moku yowled louder, turned on his tail and launched into the bushes that separated their yard from the Donavans’. Leaves rustled, and a high squeak made them both jump. 

“Moku?” Before Steve could leap form the sofa, Moku padded back onto the grass, tail swishing satisfactorily. 

“Whatever it was, he soundly defeated it.” Danny tugged on Steve’s shirt making him sag back down. 

Moku gave them another telling off and then stalked under the lanai decking. 

“It’s good to know that we have our defenders.” 

Steve snorted; Moku sat comfortably on the palm of his hand. 

“Back!” Nahele yelled. The click of nails across their wooden floors made Steve and Danny wince. But the once immaculate floors were a lost cause – dogs, cats, toddlers … home invasions. 

Vel lolloped onto the lanai heading straight for her bowl of water under the shade of the bushy Morning Glory. She lapped enthusiastically. 

“Hi, guys.” Nahele poked his head around the door. 

“Good walk?” Steve asked. 

“Vel has more energy than – I don’t know. More energy than a basketful of toddlers?” 

Danny laughed. 

Pleased at his analogy, Nahele gently lobbed a well-chewed tennis ball onto the grass. 

“Am gonna get something to eat, take it upstairs and get on my homework.” Nahele jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “You want another beer?”

Danny contemplated his almost empty bottle. 

“You are without a doubt my favourite teenager,” Danny proclaimed. 

Steve held up his own almost empty bottle. Laughing, Nahele wandered off.

“Vel, no,” Steve said warningly as the Border Collie ran her wet muzzle along the edge of the sofa cushions. But too late her muzzle was now dry. Tongue lolling, unrepentant, she leaped up onto the cushions, and settled down, head on Steve’s thigh. Steve tangled his fingers in the long silky hair behind her ear. Her tail beat, once, twice, thrumming with contentment. 

Nahele came back delivered bottles and a bowl of toasted pitta breads with hummus because the teen was simply that awesome and wandered off without a word. 

“I don’t like hummus.” Danny juggled the double bowl that Nahele had plopped on his lap, hummus in the centre, breads tucked around it. 

“Nahele made it yesterday from scratch, from a recipe Mossy told him about. Give it a go.” Steve dipped and munched. Danny wasn’t going to enjoy kissing him unless he also tried (and liked) the healthy, vegan treat. The hummus was tasty; the aged garlic smoothed and enhanced with lemon and cilantro. “Go on try it. Something new.” 

Danny reluctantly dipped and munched. He hummed. Swallowed. 

“Meh, it’s all right,” he said, as he took another hefty dip of hummus. 

Steve shook his head. He breathed in the warm, night air revelling in the moment: Vel’s head on his lap; Moku hunting spirits under the decking; Nahele safe; a weekend of no work ahead of them, and Danny at his side.

Content. 

 

**fin**


End file.
